Green Around The Gills
by Mrs. Inkwell
Summary: It all began with a headache. Unfortunately for Bridge, it went downhill from there.
1. Chapter 1

**_Greetings!_**

**_This isn't my first fanfiction story - I used to dabble in other archives under a different penname - but this is the first story I've published in a long while, and it's certainly my first attempt at a Power Rangers fanfic._**

**_I've taken a few liberties with the SPD canon, tweaking the characters here and there as I please. I wouldn't go as far as to label it AU, but it's certainly not strictly canon. Although how many stories on this site are?_**

**_For those who take the time to read it - thank you! I hope you enjoy._**

**_Disclaimer: I hold no claim over the rights to the Power Rangers. But if Bridge is for sale, I'm game._**

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><p>It all started with a headache.<p>

Just the tiniest twinge of pain behind his eyes as he slid into the passenger seat of the Delta Cruiser, so mild that it was hardly even worth acknowledging. After the agonising, biting-your-pillow-to-keep-quiet type headaches that he'd suffered in the past, this was nothing. Well, nearly nothing...he supposed it had to be _something,_ otherwise he wouldn't have noticed it at all. Although, come to think of it, he _had_ noticed nothings before. Like that time when Boom had worked the nightshift and there had been nothing in the tech room refrigerator the next morning. That had been a dark day. Figuratively speaking, of course. The weather had actually been rather pleasant...

Darn it, he was going off topic again. He struggled to concentrate at the best of times, so there was little hope of him doing so now that he had to deal with this niggling headache. Although far from debilitating, it was persistent enough to stir a tingling apprehension in the pit of his stomach. He had come to learn that even the smallest twinge of pain had the potential to develop into a full-blown migraine. And like most things in life, he had learnt it the hard way.

Those first few weeks at S.P.D. headquarters had been brutal. Having been tutored at a small private school designed for children with advanced learning capabilities - and due, in part, to the socially isolating nature of his powers - big crowds had never really been an issue that he had been forced to deal with prior to enrolling at the academy. Commander Cruger, in that all-knowing way of his, had allocated him a single room so that he could be miserable in peace. He had spent his first night slumped on the bathroom floor, half-draped over the toilet seat as he dry-heaved for hours on end, the feelings and emotions of a thousand strangers driving knives through his skull.

It was almost dawn before he had summoned the strength to crawl over to the computer terminal and comm. the infirmary. Then there had been bright, piercing light and loud voices and even _louder_ feelings of concern, confusion, panic, panic, _panic!_, and finally the prick of a needle in his arm and the blissful embrace of oblivion. It had been three weeks before he'd regained enough control over his abilities to attend classes with his peers: another two months before he could sleep at night without the aid of analgesics. And a year later, when his new roommate had taken him to see the first hoverball game of the season, the overcrowded stadium had hardly fazed him at all. Well, okay...perhaps that was a _teensy_ lie; but at least he had made it to the halftime klaxon before upchucking his hotdog and soda into the nearest trashcan.

"Bridge?"

He jumped, startled, blinking rapidly to expel the heaviness of fatigue from his eyes. "Huh?"

Jack was watching him closely from the driver's seat, a shallow crease marring his brow. "Hey, man, you okay? You seriously spaced out on me there."

His voice was soft, probing, radiating concern in warm, pulsing waves that Bridge found both comforting and mildly embarrassing. The green ranger sat up a little straighter and glanced around. Delta Cruiser One had reclaimed her usual parking spot in the sub-level bay of S.P.D's central base, right alongside her twin. The second patrol vehicle was empty, its occupants having departed elsewhere; no doubt to the command deck, where Cruger would be ready to debrief them. God, how long had Jack been sitting here waiting for him? For that matter, how the hell had they gotten here so fast? They had left the shipyard only moments ago. It was a fifteen minute journey back to basr, surely they couldn't have...

_Ow. My head. Just...ow._

The throbbing behind his eyes had grown far worse; now a deep, sharp ache that pulsed steadily with each heartbeat. He furrowed his brow, trying to loosen the tensed muscles.

"Hey, you still in there?"

"Huh?" _Oh, right. Jack. _He shook his head to clear the fog and turned an apologetic smile on his team leader. "Yeah, sorry. My bad. I'm just tired, I guess."

The concern in Jack's gaze receded a little as he returned the smile. "That makes two of us. C'mon," he gestured in the vague direction of the elevator. "We'd better catch up with the others before Cruger sends out a search and rescue squad."

Bridge unbuckled his safety restraints and fumbled for the door handle, massaging a bruise on his shoulder. "Maybe I should just stay here and wait. They can carry me up to the command deck on a stretcher."

He heard Jack chuckle, all warmth and yellowy-gold fondness. "If you don't hurry it up, _I'll_ carry you."

"M'coming." The ache in his skull blossomed with even the smallest movement, creeping along his temples and beginning a familiar trajectory across his forehead. "Eventually."

He didn't exit the vehicle so much as topple out of it sideways. He flailed in the air for a moment, suddenly very much awake, before strong arms were catching him securely about the waist and steadying him as he regained his footing.

"I wasn't actually being serious," Jack chuckled, but the humour in his tone belied the concern in his gaze. Then his lips twitched and he reached for his communicator. "Although if you want someone to carry you, I'm pretty sure the guys from Combat T4 would be willing to-"

"No!" Bridge put his hand over Jack's, preventing him from pulling the device from his belt. His cry echoed resoundingly in the cavernous room, ringing in his ears and _oh, sweet Zordon_ it hurt. "No," he said, more quietly this time, and turned quickly towards the elevator to hide a grimace. "I'm good. Let's go."

He was halfway across the vehicle bay before Jack could say another word, determined to reach the command deck and get the debriefing over and done with as soon as possible so that he could collapse into bed where it was quiet and dark, with a warm glass of milk and one of Kat's fast-working analgesics. And maybe some toast.

Jack stepped up beside him, still frowning, and Bridge reached out to press the button for the top floor. Even the soft '_ding'_ was enough to drive a skewer through his temples, and he turned his head to the side to close his eyes and mouth a silent but heartfelt _'ow'_. He ran gloved fingers through his short, spiky fringe, digging the heel of his hand into his forehead in an attempt to alleviate the pressure building up behind it.

With an ominous _thunk, _the elevator came to a sudden halt. Not a 'you-have-reached-your-destination' halt, but a jarring 'something-is-wrong-why-the-hell-have-we-stopped-here' kind of halt. Jack was in front of him a moment later, arms crossed over his chest and eyes firm. He was red now. _No, not red; that's a colour_. Angry. He was angry. Well...perhaps _grouchy_ would be a better way to describe it. And concerned, and tired, and quickly running out of patience.

Bridge tightened his hold on the rail, leather gloves squeaking against the smooth metal.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Bridge? What aren't you telling me?"

He tried to feign innocence, but it was a poor attempt. In truth, all he wanted to do was sit down on the floor and bury his head in his hands. Although first and foremost, "What did you do to the elevator?"

"Flipped the emergency switch," Jack replied with a blasé wave of his hand, "but you're avoiding the question. What's goin' on with you, man?"

Bridge had grown pretty adept at weaving tall tales. He'd been doing it as long as he could remember. '_My hands are sensitive to a lot of allergens...I just really like gloves...I have poor circulation, my fingers get cold...I have this phobia of touching metal with my bare hands...Childhood accident involving a blender; the scars make me self-conscious so I keep them covered'._

And then he'd moved to the Academy, where suddenly his secret wasn't quite so secret anymore. The S.P.D. instructors had been both fully aware and completely, wonderfully unfazed by the extent of his abilities. He'd had weekly training exercises with Cruger to strengthen his psychic control and explore his limitations, and monthly diagnostic sessions with Dr. Manx to study the physiological effects of using his powers. After a while the other cadets, tentatively at first, had begun to drop not-so-subtle hints about the possibility of him giving them a demonstration. And before long, everyone from junior cadets to senior ranger trainees wanted him to read their aura. The resultant headaches had been totally worth it. For the first time in his life, his socially isolating genetic mutation had made him into a social attraction.

Still, he had never lost the ability to lie. Only now it was about little things, like losing Sky's training manuals and _no, no, definitely not_ having a headache.

"Bridge?"

Jack moved closer to grip the younger ranger's arm. The anger was gone, replaced instead by a silver-blue ripple of uncertainty that made Bridge's stomach clench. God, everything was so _loud_. He was tired and achy and miserable and desperately wanted to get away. Against his will, his felt eyes begin to burn. He clenched one hand into a fist and ducked his head so that the other man couldn't see. Except the other man was Jack, so who was he kidding?

He swallowed forcefully, trying to ease the ache in his throat. "S'just a headache," he managed, but the nonchalant shrug that accompanied it was rendered wholly unconvincing when his voice broke hoarsely on the last word.

He heard the click of a switch being flipped and suddenly the elevator was moving again. Jack pressed another floor number and turned back around to face him, his dark eyes watchful. His hand hadn't moved from Bridge's forearm.

"Do you need me to call Kat?"

Bridge shook his head ever so slightly, biting the inside of his cheek when the movement tightened the invisible band across his forehead. Jack squeezed his arm again.

"Bed then," he murmured, and it was an order and a request at the same time - how very _Jack_. "I'll give the guys the heads up."

Bridge found himself frowning at the bizarre mental image that conjured. "Why's it even called that?" he pondered aloud, swiping the back of his gloved hand over his traitorously wet eyes. "It's not like you have...actual heads popping up everywhere. Although that'd be an awesome idea for an alarm system."

"Dude..." Jack shook his head in fond exasperation, lips twitching. He nudged the younger ranger towards the open doors. "Go to bed."

Bridge forced a smile, raising a hand in farewell as the elevator doors slid closed. Then he sighed, reaching out to lean against the nearby wall, dragging a hand slowly down his face. _Bedroom. Pills. Sleep. I'm almost there_.

o~O~o

Sky Tate crept into the darkened room on tiptoe and felt along the wall for the door controls. The light from the corridor cast a murky orange glow over their shared living quarters, but did little more than distinguish the two standard-issue beds from the sea of shadows. It was nearing twenty-three-hundred hours and the lights had already dimmed to their night-time setting. All the academy corridors would be similarly lit to promote sleep – not that it did the nightshift team any favours. A number of those who were unfortunate enough to work or train with the tech team or security patrol would have to stay awake and alert despite the sleep-inducing lighting. Sky didn't really see the logic in dimming them at all. It wasn't as though they were a drain on power.

Finding the control panel at last, he pressed the button and grimaced as the door closed with an overly loud '_hiss'_. He heard the tell-tale rustle of bed sheets and his grimace turned into a wince.

"Bridge?" he whispered, trying to edge his way towards the right side of the room in the inky darkness, paying careful attention to his footing in case his roommate had neglected to put away his boots – _again_. "Bridge, you awake?"

His only answer was a hoarse sound caught somewhere between a groan, a sigh and a sob. Sky frowned, concern building up within him. Padding softly over to his own bed on the left-hand side of the room, he felt for the dimmer switch on his bedside lamp and turned it down to its lowest setting, before flicking the light on. A faint blue glow flooded the room and the shadows retreated a little. The pale glow wasn't much, but it would suffice. And with Bridge clearly having an off-day, Sky was hesitant to use a higher setting.

The younger ranger lay slumped across his bed, face-down and unmoving. His gloved hands were clenched into fists either side of his head, gripping the pillow tightly. On the bedside table, an open bottle of prescription analgesics had toppled onto its side and the small white pills lay scattered across the cream-coloured polythene surface, casting tiny shadows of their own. Sky eyed the medication worriedly, praying that Bridge hadn't gone and overdosed himself in his lethargic state. Having witnessed a number of these _episodes_ over the past eight months, he knew what to expect. And it looked as though tonight's ordeal would be one of the bad ones. God, Bridge hadn't even managed to take off his uniform.

_Right. That bad._

"Bridge?" He crouched down at the bedside, keeping his voice to a whisper as he carefully brushed the pills back into their container and screwed the lid on tight. "How many of these did you take?"

The green ranger raised an arm long enough to hold up three fingers, the limb trembling with the effort, before his hand dropped back down to fist the pillow. Sky released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in a single, sharp puff, and placed the pill bottle on the floor. Three was the maximum recommended dose, which meant that this wasn't just bad, it was _bad_. And what was worse, the medication didn't seem to be working. It had been over an hour since Jack had shown up without Bridge and relayed the concerning news to his worried teammates. Sky didn't understand why Cruger hadn't dismissed him then and there – it wasn't as though he had paid any attention to what was said thereafter. But that wasn't the point; an hour was more than enough time for the analgesics to kick in and lessen the severity of the migraine. The fact that three of them hadn't nipped this thing in the bud was somewhat concerning.

"The meds aren't helping, are they?" he said softly, moving so that he was sitting on the edge of the mattress near Bridge's hip.

The younger man's grip tightened on the pillow, but he said nothing - to be fair, Sky hadn't really meant it as a question. The answer was fairly obvious. He studied Bride silently, a hand hovering over the small of his back, torn between the desire to comfort his roommate and the need to preserve his own masculine pride. He curled his hand into a fist and pulled back, angry at himself. It wasn't like anybody else could see him. What was he trying to prove?

He and Bridge...well, it was hard for two guys to eat, sleep and work together in close proximity for eight months straight without forming some sort of attachment. Not the romantic kind; Bridge was a nice enough looking guy, but Sky just didn't swing that way. Still, there was no denying that a bond of some sort existed between them.

There had once been a time when Sky had loathed the energetic, childlike S.P.D. cadet. Bridge had been this stupid, irresponsible, geeky, downright _weird_ kid who'd somehow always managed to wangle his way into first place in every theory exam. Sky, who had prided himself on being the best at everything, had given him the cold shoulder for three years simply out of spite. Until the day that Cruger had made them roommates. He had awoken that first night to the sound of retching and to the faint glow of the bathroom light illuminating their bedroom ceiling. Now, Sky may have once been a rather unsympathetic individual, but he had never been that much of a cold-hearted bastard that he could simply ignore the needs of someone who was suffering. So he had gotten up to investigate and found Bridge slumped on the bathroom floor, holding himself up over the rim of the toilet with trembling arms. The concern had been instinctual – it was his job to help people, after all; even if that usually entailed beating the crap out of bad guys.

"_What's wrong with you?"_

_The younger cadet glanced up at him, eyes unfocused and glassy. "You're loud," he murmured, his voice wavering. And he promptly turned back around to empty his stomach into the toilet._

_Sky was caught between being offended at what he thought was a jab at his snoring habit, disgusted at the nauseating stench of bile and half-digested cafeteria food, concerned at the sight Bridge's violent heaving, and genuinely surprised at the abject misery in the younger man's eyes. Sure, the kid was a scrawny thing who looked no older than seventeen, but they had been working together in the same squad for months now – Carson was a tough nut to crack. Nothing ever seemed to faze him; he always had that stupid smile on his face, like the imaginary world he lived in was made of unicorns and rainbows or something. Knowing Bridge, it probably was._

"_And how does that explain why you're currently heaving your guts up in the middle of the night?" he asked, his tone more snappish than he had intended._

_Bridge whimpered – yes, honest-to-God __**whimpered**__ – and pressed a shaking hand to his head. "You had a nightmare about...something." He let out a choked gasp and curled in on himself, eyes brimming. "You were angry and scared and upset and I couldn't...I'm not used to you yet, I couldn't block it. I...I'm sorry."_

_Sky stared at him, dumbfounded. He knew about Bridge's ability, of course – nothing could ever be kept secret at S.P.D., the gossip simply spread too fast. He knew the kid wore gloves to help control his psychic senses, and that he could tell a good guy from a bad guy just by standing next to him – one of the reasons why Sky tolerated his presence out on squad patrol; his powers came in handy. But the cadet had assured him that he couldn't read thoughts. So how the __**hell**__ had he known about Sky's nightmare? And why was it making him sick?_

"_Sensing people's feelings...makes you vomit?" he surmised cautiously._

_Bridge shook his head, no – then he buried it in his hands. "Hurts," he managed to get out. "Oh God, please."_

_Something in Sky crumbled at the hoarse plea. Dropping into a crouch beside his roommate, he placed a tentative hand on the nearest bony shoulder. "What do you need?"_

"_Kat." _

"_Who?"_

_Bridge raised his sweaty face from his palms and sucked in a breath. "Kat Manx," he clarified shakily. "Doctor...Doctor Manx."_

"_All right," Sky agreed softly, surprised at how gently it came out and more importantly at how right it felt. "I'll let her know what's happening. Stay here."_

_Bridge smiled up at him tremulously, before twisting around again to spew bile into the toilet bowl. _

Sky sighed at the memory, feeling a familiar guilt begin to eat at him. He hated the way he had acted back then. Syd had once called him an arrogant, uptight prick – and rightly so. Although to be fair, she herself could be a spoilt, self-centred brat when she wanted to be. But she had doted on Bridge from the start. Now that Sky had wizened up to the truth, he could understand her mothering habits. Bridge really _had_ been a kid back in their junior cadet year; barely sixteen years old and as green as they came - no pun intended. Sky had been twenty-one and overconfident, determined to be the best ranger that S.P.D. had ever seen. Their personalities couldn't have been more different.

But two and half years later, after that first night together, things had changed. Once Dr. Manx had settled Bridge comfortably in the darkened infirmary, with a mask to cover his sensitive eyes and enough hydrenozine to take down a Zuruthian minotaur, she had taken him aside and explained the unfortunate truth about living with an ability like Bridge's. Unlike Sky's power, which he could access if and when he needed to, Bridge's psychic senses couldn't be switched off. He could control them to some extent - he had learnt to filter out the background noise and channel the energy away from himself in order to lessen the physiological impact. But he could never escape it.

After that, Sky had seen the younger cadet in a whole new light. Where he had once only seen immaturity, he saw a delicate, childlike naivety and a pure heart. Where he had once seen stupidity, he saw only unparalleled intellect. And he had felt a new-found respect for the teenager who had endured so much without ever appearing to feel an ounce of self-pity. Respect had blossomed into friendship, and friendship into kinship. And thus their bond hand come to be.

"Sky?"

He drew in a sharp breath, startled out of his reverie. Glancing down at the younger man, he placed a hand in the centre of Bridge's back and leaned in closer. "Yeah?"

Bridge gulped in a series of ragged breaths, head turned to one side, skin pale and glistening with sweat in the dim blue glow of Sky's bedside lamp. "M'gonna...I...m'gonna-"

Sky sat up quickly, realising with a surge of dread what was about to happen. "Can you make it to the bathroom?"

"Nuh-uh."

Lurching forwards to grab the plastic trash can beside their shared computer terminal, he thrust it under Bridge's chin just as the green ranger rolled over to the side of the bed and lost the contents of his stomach. Sky grimaced, trying to breathe through his mouth so that the smell wouldn't make him gag.

At long last, the retches subsided. Sky handed him a wad of tissues from a box on the shelf above his bed, pushing the trash can further away from him with the toe of his boot. Bridge wiped his mouth and threw the tissue away, rolling over onto his back so that he was fully on the bed once more. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, lips turned down in an expression of abject misery.

Sky gripped his arm gently. "Bridge, I think we need to call Kat."

Bridge gave the tiniest shake of his head, his breathing fast and shallow as he ground his palms into his eye sockets. Sky winced on his behalf, reaching out to grab the younger ranger's wrists and gently pry his hands away from his face.

"It's only gonna get worse," he cautioned, sighing when Bridge pulled away from him and rolled over onto his front to squish his face into the pillow. "Bridge, if the cordrazine isn't working you'll need something stronger."

The younger man gave another tiny shake of his head and held up one finger.

Sky's frown deepened. "I'm not gonna sit here and wait for another hour while you puke your guts up all over the place."

Bridge folded his arms over his head as his shoulders began to shake. Sky froze, feeling something cold and uncomfortable slide down his chest and into the pit of his stomach. Bridge didn't cry. He'd had the crap beaten out of him by criminals time and time again and still managed to maintain his cheery disposition. When Bridge became truly upset, it was bad. Scarily bad. It had only happened once before to his memory and...God, neither of them could go through that again.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, already on his feet and moving towards the computer terminal. "That's it. I'm calling Kat."

The green ranger didn't answer; he merely burrowed his head further into the pillow.

_~TBC~_

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><p><strong><em>I'll no doubt have chapter 2 posted sometime over the next week or so - it'll depend on how busy things are in the real world. I'm working full-time this summer until I go back to uni in September, so that doesn't leave a whole lot of time for recreational activities. *sigh*<em>**

**_If you read this chapter and enjoyed it, I'd be delighted if you dropped me a review or a PM! I do take requests (because I love to be challenged), so if there's anything you'd like to read about in a future story, just let me know. :D_**

**_Until then, toodle-pip!_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Firstly, a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed! Especially to the anonymous reviewer, to whom I was unable to send a personal reply, and to **__**gaap237**__** because the site wouldn't let me PM you. So...thanks everyone! I was genuinely surprised at the positive response.**_

_**But more importantly, my apologies for the belated update! I'm working full time over the summer until uni starts up again, so I hardly have any time to spare for hobbies. Thank you for being so patient with me. :)**_

_**And here, for your personal reading pleasure, is chapter two. Enjoy!**_

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><p>"Is he asleep?"<p>

Sky jerked upright from his slumped position in the chair, his neck aching at the sudden motion. He squinted towards the open infirmary doors, weary eyes unaccustomed to the light after sitting for so long in the blue-tinged semidarkness. Recognising the slim figure silhouetted in the bright doorway, he sank back against the unyielding plastic chair and dragged a hand down his face.

"Yeah. The drugs knocked him out pretty fast; he hasn't even twitched." His gaze darted back towards his snoozing friend as though to reassure himself that nothing had changed during the five seconds that his eyes had been averted. "I suppose that's for the best."

Kat Manx quietly kicked off her heels at the door, padding silently across the bay so as not to disturb her slumbering patient. She spared a cursory glance at the monitors above Bridge's bed, nodding when the readings met with her approval, before dropping her gaze to the slight form beneath the white sheets. A tender look softened her professional mask as she bent down to carefully straighten the covers, patting out the creases with practised ease. Sky found himself fighting a smile. It was no secret that the lab-technician-come-doctor held a certain maternal fondness for the green ranger, but he'd never seen her display it quite so...openly. Perhaps his team hadn't been the only ones left shaken by the evening's events.

"Syd told me what happened out there," she said, as though reading his mind. He turned to look at her and found a pair of amber eyes regarding him solemnly. "Sounds like you had a rough time of it."

Sky nodded stiffly, gaze shifting to study the mottled red-blue marks that marred his roommate's throat. "You could say that."

A warm hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "He's going to be fine, Sky. A couple of days' rest and he'll back to his old self."

She bent down so that they were at eye level and he resisted the urge to look away. Kat might have retained an essentially youthful appearance despite her advanced age, but there was something strikingly _ancient_ about her gaze that made him feel comparatively young and stupid.

"Kat..."

"There was nothing you could have done." The hand squeezed again, a little more insistently. Her eyes hardened. "Besides, Bridge wasn't the only one who came away with bruises."

His aching back throbbed at the reminder. Barely hiding a wince, he shifted in his seat, flicking absently at a strand of fluff on his trouser leg simply because it gave his hands something to do. I weary sigh escaped him before he could reel it in, and his stinging eyes slid closed. "He beat the crap out of us, Doc. One of him, five of us. And he wasn't even one of Gruumm's goons. He shouldn't have-"

"Sky." Her voice was soft, gentle, but it held a note of finality that dared him to contend with her. "He was a trained assassin. And a Vissonian at that."

"Yeah, but-"

"You all made it back alive," she insisted. "And the criminal was apprehended." A hand, warm and gentle, settled on the nape of his neck. "Cruger's proud of what you did today. We know how much you hate to use it."

_Pain. A band tightening across his forehead as he narrows his eyes, focusing, sculpting the energy into a net, his right hand extended and trembling as the force field weaves itself about the alien's muscular torso, pinning the Vissonian's arms to his sides. He hears Jack yelling, watches him toss something at Syd, and in a flash of blond curls she's somersaulting over their heads to land a solid blow to the back of the assassin's blue-skinned neck. His shield breaks suddenly, sending him to his knees, but there's another, louder thud as a body hits the floor and he knows the pain is worthwhile._

Sky swallowed heavily, closing his eyes against the memory.

"So today we beat him," he said bitterly. "But what about next time? Or the time after that? The blow was pure luck." He scuffed the toe of his boot against a black mark on the floor, frowning again. "What if Grumm catches wind of all this? What if he starts hiring Vissonians? Next time, we won't all be walking away from a fight like that."

"Then let's hope there isn't a next time," Kat said firmly. Then her expression softened and she lowered her voice. "The Vissonians are a peaceful race. Brox was an unfortunate exception. But it if it makes you feel any better, I'll start upgrading the blasters tonight. You won't be left defenceless a second time."

He caught her wrist as she turned to go. "It can wait 'til morning, Doc. It's late. Why don't you get some sleep?"

Her lips twitched. "Isn't that my line?"

"Maybe. But the suggestion was genuine." He dropped her wrist quickly, clearing his throat as he turned back towards his sleeping companion. "I'll keep an eye on Bridge."

She placed a hand on his shoulder again. "The monitors are alarmed. They'll let you know if anything changes. Why don't you get some rest?" She gestured at the row of empty infirmary beds with a sweep of her arm. "There seems to be plenty of room at the inn."

"No. I'll be all right."

"That wasn't a suggestion, cadet."

Sky had the decency to look contrite. "I will, Doc. Soon." _But not just yet. _

Kat poked him in the chest, eyes hard but a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You'd better, mister. Oh, and Sky?"

The blue ranger raised an enquiring brow.

"Call Jack. He'll want to know."

Sky blinked, surprised. "Oh, God. It completely slipped my mind."

The Sylvestrian was already standing at the infirmary entrance, slipping effortlessly into her discarded heels. "I'll leave you to it." She tipped her head towards a door on the far side of the room. "The lab should be unlocked." She glanced meaningfully at the occupied bed. "It's soundproofed."

It took him a moment to comprehend the reason behind her statement. When at last the penny dropped, Doctor Manx had long since departed and only the faint scent of her perfume lingered in the sterile air of the medical bay. Sighing, the blue ranger scrubbed a hand across tired, aching eyes and reached for his morpher. _Guess it's time to face the music._

o~O~o

Jack scrubbed a hand down his face, closing his eyes as he haphazardly tossed the data pad onto his nightstand. Fatigue clung to him like leaden weights, solid and immovable; a bone-deep exhaustion so intense it was almost _painful. _Damn Cruger and his God-forsaken mission reports. He was pretty sure the memory of his recent battle would still be as vivid and heart-stopping in the morning – this wasn't something he was going to forget about in a hurry – but there was no arguing with the Top Dog when it came to paperwork. Well, screw him. If Cruger wanted a short, cryptic, to-the-point summary of the events that had taken place earlier that evening, fine by him. But he hoped the commander enjoyed decryption puzzles because he hadn't given a rat's ass about the spelling and punctuation.

A knock on the door made him start and he straightened up with a wince, flexing his stiff shoulders. "Come in."

The door slid open to reveal a young, nervous-looking cadet who couldn't have been a day over sixteen. His body seemed to be drowning in the grey uniform. God, what were S.P.D thinking? The academy had enrolled kids before, but apparently Bridge had been an exception to the rules because of his unique circumstances. The minimum enrolment age, according to the S.P.D database, was supposed to be eighteen. There was no way in hell that this sandy-haired munchkin was eighteen.

"How old are you?"

The kid blinked, and Jack realised belatedly that the question wasn't an appropriate first greeting. He opened his mouth to apologise, but the younger cadet beat him to it.

"Um...fourteen, sir." The teenager shifted uncomfortably. "Commander Cruger asked me to come and pick up your mission report?" He sounded uncertain, and gnawed on his lip in a way that made him appear even younger. "Does that sound right?"

Jack leaned across to pluck the data pad from the bedside table, looking the boy up and down. "You working a nightshift, cadet?"

The boy blinked, genuinely surprised, then grinned shyly and shook his head. "No, sir. Well...I _am_ working the nightshift, but I'm not a cadet. I'm just..." He rubbed his arm self-consciously and averted his gaze. "I'm kinda here on work experience. Sort of. I do errands and stuff mostly, and Boom lets me watch his experiments. I'm only working tonight because my dad said I could."

"Your dad?" Jack repeated, leaning forward and holding out the pad invitingly.

"Oh! Yeah, um, my dad's on the security squad. He's the reason I'm allowed to work here at all. Not many kids get the chance, the academy on accepts three applications a year. But Dad showed one of my inventions to Doctor Manx and she said she'd love to work with me until school starts up again after summer. She's neat, isn't she?" He blushed, as though realising what he'd just admitted to, and quickly strode forward to retrieve the mission report. "Sorry, sir. I'll let you sleep."

"Hey, whoa, not so fast," Jack chuckled, smiling in a way he hoped would ease the boy's discomfort. "There's no rush. It's not often I get to see a new face around here." Which was, of course, a blatant lie. He'd only been working at S.P.D for eight months, and there were strangers coming i all the time from one specialist field or another – he was lucky if he knew even half the staff by name. But the kid didn't need to know that. He smiled again, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed. "What's your name?"

The boy clutched the pad in his hands nervously. "Jake Simmons. Sir."

"Simmons?" Jack's eyebrows went up. "You're Artie's kid?"

Jake smiled, shoulders sagging in relief. "Yeah."

_What the..._

Jack shook his head in disbelief. Arthur Simmons was a six-foot-five bear of a man, Congonise by birth and American by upbringing. He had a good heart and quick mind, but often came across as gruff and intimidating to those who didn't know better. The L-40 blaster he constantly cradled against his chest probably didn't help much. Jack had heard through the grapevine that Artie and his wife were raising a kid, but seriously...Jake? No way. This shy, scrawny Caucasian kid was _definitely_ not the offspring of Ammo Artie. Not without some serious genetic manipulation, and he was pretty sure doing it to this extent was illegal.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Are you sure we're thinking of the same Arthur Simmons?"

The kid laughed shyly. "He's my adoptive father, if you're confused about the whole skin pigmentation issue."

Ah. Now it all made a little more sense. He smiled at the teen. "You'll have to stop on by the ranger lounge sometime; me and the guys'll give you a proper tour of the place. Bet they haven't even let you see the battle zords yet, have they?"

Jake grinned ruefully. "Dad let me visit the vehicle bay on my own, but he said the zord mechanics can get a little tetchy around strangers. He was gonna take me earlier but, well..." He averted his gaze with a small, shelf-conscious shrug. "Then you and the other rangers came back with that Vissonian guy and he had to organise security stuff." He glanced up again, eyes wide. "Not that I mind! 'Cause I know that ranger stuff is, like, _way_ more important."

Sweet Zordon, this kid was adorable. Jack made a mental note to introduce him to Bridge as soon as possible. Jake was practically his double already, they'd be friends in a heartbeat.

"Well, I'm sorry all the same. We'll have to make it up to you later in the week. I'll have a word with your dad next time we run into each other." He glanced down at the pad in Jake's hand. "You should probably get going, bud. Cruger doesn't like to be kept waiting."

A flash of panic crossed the boy's features and he quickly backed up towards the door. "Yeah, good idea. It was nice meetin' you, sir. Thanks!"

And with that, and the soft _'hiss' _of the door, he was gone. Jack huffed a soft laugh, shuffling up the bed and easing his aching body against the padded headboard with a heavy sigh. God, he was tired. It had been one hell of day.

Earlier that evening, S.P.D. Headquarters had received an emergency transmission from the ambassador of Vissonia Prime. The blue-skinned Vissonian had informed the command team in grave tones that a dangerous criminal, Brox, had escaped from their high-security prison facility and commandeered a lightspeed shuttle, which had been bound for earth – and, judging by its trajectory, aiming for the S.P.D. complex itself. The base had been put on immediate red alert, with Jack's team morphed and ready beside their respective vehicles and a host of S.P.D's finest fighter pilots moving into a defensive aerial formation. In the end, the alien shuttlecraft had been successfully intercepted and forced to make a crash landing two miles south of its original target. B-squad had arrived on the scene in time to see Brox stumble out of the smoking wreckage, grey prison uniform ripped and muddied in places, but still a formidable sight at over eight feet tall and with biceps as thick as tree trunks.

And the shuttlecraft hadn't been the only thing he'd stolen – Brox had been packing more ammo than half of the S.P.D. security force put together.

Consequently, they'd been hammered. Vissonians were humanoid in build (other than their significant height advantage) but their dark blue skin could absorb concentrated bolts of electricity – a genetic adaption that their species had acquired through exposure to their planet's frequent plasma storms. Consequently, their weapon fire had barely scratched him.

After what had felt like hours of fighting and chasing and more fighting, Sky and Syd had been the ones to strike the finishing blow. All five rangers had demorphed over the course of the battle, their power reserves drained after prolonged attack from the Vissonian weaponry. No longer in ranger form, they'd opted for fighting dirty. Sky had erected a force field around Brox's upper torso to keep his arms pinned while Syd changed the molecular structure of her arm to mimic the quartzite stone that lay scattered about the factory's dock. A solid hit to the nape of Brox's neck had sent him sprawling, and a second blow moments later had apparently knocked him senseless.

"_Is he down?" Z demanded, breathing heavily as she regained her feet, Jack's discarded blaster levelled at the fallen alien."Is it over?"_

"_I don't know." Sky kept his distance as he circled the body slowly, eyes narrowed. "He could be faking it. Stay alert, guys."_

_Syd glanced nervously towards Jack. "Should I hit him again?"_

"_No," Jack snapped, with more bite than he'd intended. "Not until we're sure he's still a threat. Needless battery goes against regulation."_

"_Okay, okay," Syd protested, raising her hands defensively. "I was just asking."_

"_Geez, Jack." Z was staring at him, blaster still trained on the Vissonian. "Who died and made you Sky?"_

_Sky shot her an unpleasant look, brushing dirt off his uniform as he bent down to retrieve his blaster. "And what's that supposed to mean?"_

_Jack frowned at both of them. "Knock it off, you two. We've got more important things to worry about here."_

"_Uh...guys?"_

_Four heads snapped towards the green ranger in perfect unison; it would have been comical had the situation been less serious. Because Bridge was inches away from the guy who'd just beaten the living crap out of them – and on his frickin'__** knees**__ no less – with his head bent close to the alien's prone form. His eyes were narrowed, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and suspicion. Jack saw a long, grimy, three-jointed finger twitch in the dust and something cold and painful wrapped around his lungs. He started forward, hand outstretched._

"_Bridge, get back!"_

"_I don't think he's-"_

_Brox twisted around in a flash, a long-fingered hand curling around the startled man's neck. "Foolish ranger. Nothing can stop-"_

_There was an almighty __**thunk**__ and the Vissonian's bald head struck the earth, sending up a cloud of dust. His crushing grip went lax on the green ranger's throat and Bridge pushed the loose fingers away, shuffling backwards a few paces. Breathing heavily and massaging his bruised neck, he stared up at his rescuer. Syd towered over the unconscious alien body, one foot planted either side of his broad chest, her left hand still clenched around the shard of quartzite that had turned her skin to stone. Her eyes were hard, furious even, her lips set in a thin line._

"_Enjoy the headache," she purred, flicking stray blond curls over her shoulder as she tossed the rock aside. She studied her hand as it returned to its original molecular structure, lips turning down in a pout. "Rats. I broke a nail."_

_Jack stared at her, mouth agape, until he recalled the severity of the situation at hand and lowered his gaze to where his teammate sat slumped on the ground. Sky had moved to kneel beside him, one hand gripping the younger man's chin as he inspected the red imprints on his neck._

"_Bridge?" Jack stepped over the body and dropped into a crouch beside his injured teammate. "You okay, man?"_

_The green ranger blinked once, shuddered, and then turned to face the red ranger with a forced smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine, Jack. Well, sorta fine. Close enough. I mean, my shoulder kinda hurts and I'm sitting on a really pointy rock, but other than that-"_

"_You're fine," Z concluded, smiling as she finally lowered her weapon. Her gaze shifted to meet Jack's and she gestured at Brox's unconscious form with a slow tilt of her head. "We gonna confine this perp or what?"_

"_With pleasure." _

Jack sighed again, running his fingers lightly over a bruise on his forearm. They had all come away with bumps and scrapes, but nothing serious enough to warrant medical treatment. The handheld medscanner in the Delta Cruiser's first aid kit had quickly confirmed that the marks on Bridge's neck were relatively superficial. Come morning, there would be no physical evidence of the previous day's battle, thanks to their morphers' ability to accelerate their body's normal cell repair functions. Or something along those lines. Bridge had tried to explain the whole process a couple of months back, but the complex terminology had given him a headache.

Speaking of which, he wondered how his younger teammate was faring. Bridge had always been prone to migraines – an unfortunate side-effect of his psychic abilities – and the evening's events would have easily been enough to trigger another episode. Sudden, unwanted skin-on-skin contact was one of the few things that threw the younger man off-balance. Bridge was an empath, which meant that he could sense the dominant emotions in any living being within a certain proximity, but physical contact seemed to significantly amplify the psychic connection between himself and the individual in question. The younger man had once described the experience as walking along in a rainstorm and suddenly being hit by a tidal wave.

Bridge's analogies had always been a little obscure.

He started suddenly as his morpher beeped. Geez, why was he so jumpy this evening? Rolling over with a groan, he fumbled along his bedside table for the device, flipping it open and clearing his throat before answering, "Jack here."

"_Hey. Bridge is in the infirmary. Thought I should let you know."_

Jack shot upright, the ache in his limbs forgotten. "What? What happened?"

"_The usual. Looks like the fight with Brox took more out of him than we'd thought."_

"How long's he been out?"

There was a pause. _"About an hour and a half."_

Jack glared at the morpher. "And you didn't think to call me about this sooner?"

"_No. I didn't." _Sky's frown was obvious through his tone of voice._ "Kinda had more important thing on my mind."_

The glare softened into concern. "How bad is it?"

There was another pause.

"Sky?"

The blue ranger's answering sigh crackled over the comm. _"I don't know, Jack. It's not looking good. He'll be off his feet for a couple of days at least."_

"Damn." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes drifting shut. "Have the nightmares started yet?"

"_Doesn't look like it. But who knows what's going on in his subconscious? Brox isn't exactly a favourable character, and that choke hold lasted longer than I would've liked."_

"You need me to come down there?"

"_No, I've got it covered. Kat's given him the good stuff, he's dead to the world for now. I'll let you know if he has another episode. Can you comm. Cruger and the girls for me?"_

Jack nodded, even though Sky couldn't see him. "You got it. Oh, and Sky? If he wakes up swinging, try to duck. Although that last black eye of yours was a thing of beauty."

There was another pause, a low rumble of a growl, then:

"_Shut up, Jack."_

The red ranger smirked and snapped his morpher shut. Then the smile promptly fell and he reached up to drag a hand down his face, heaving a weary sigh. Things weren't going to be easy for the youngest S.P.D ranger over the next few days. When Brox had grabbed him by the throat, the sudden influx of foreign thoughts and emotions must have been too much for Bridge to handle. So he'd stored them away, subconsciously protecting himself for as long as possible, until they eventually forced themselves to the surface.

Bridge had regretfully admitted that he had no control over the process - it was his power's natural reflex to try and prevent him from harm, so when something threatened to overload his senses his powers would instinctively isolate and contain the surge for as long as possible. When his mind couldn't take the strain anymore, it flipped out, assaulting Bridge with a killer migraine and a barrage of emotions that didn't belong to him.

Which was why the other rangers often ended up sporting bruises after caring for Bridge during one of his 'episodes'. Sometimes he didn't even remember who he was. And after the confusion wore off, there would still be the headaches and nausea to deal with. And the nightmares...man, he didn't envy Sky's position. Bridge would make a troubled roommate for the better part of a fortnight before the effects of this attack would wear off.

Jack sighed again, peeling off his shirt and uniform pants and sliding under the duvet.

_Better sleep while I can. Tomorrow's gonna be hard on all of us.  
><em>

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><p><strong><em>Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. Chapter 3 should be posted in a week or so.<em>**

**_xxx_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Hey, folks!_**

**_Sorry about the slightly belated update, university work has been a little manic these past couple of weeks. But I'm rewarding your patience with a HUGE dose of sha_****_meless fluff. Because I needed it. And so did Bridge. Diabetics beware, this stuff is sweeter than candy floss._**

**_A massive thank you to all those who reviewed last time, I loved hearing from you all! :)  
><em>**

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><p>"I thought I told you to <em>duck!<em>"

Sky glowered, carefully probing his lower lip with the tip of his tongue and grimacing at the coppery taste it left in his mouth. "I _did_ duck. That's why he kneed me in the face."

Jack eyed the split lip warily. "Kat's not gonna be happy about this."

"Ya think?" the blue ranger snapped, jamming his thumb into the floor number repeatedly in a futile attempt to make the elevator move faster. He saw Jack's wide-eyed expression and sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Sorry. I'm just..."

The shorter man nodded in the growing silence, heaving a sigh of his own. " Yeah. Me too."

Sky's morpher chirped shrilly, interrupting the awkward moment. His hand shot to his uniform belt with practised ease, sliding the device out of its clasp and flipping it open. "Tate here."

"_I've managed to trace Bridge's residual ranger energy to level six," _Kat informed them, her tone clipped and professional. _"He's in the squad lounge. And he's not alone; I'm detecting a secondary heat signature. Proceed with caution, gentlemen. Let's keep casualties to a minimum." _

"Copy that," Jack replied, leaning into Sky's personal space as the blue ranger leant over to press another floor button. "What's the security status?"

"_Captain Simmons is holding position at the head of corridor B12, and there's a squad on the way to block off the east exit. The only other way out is down the elevator shaft."_

The red ranger nodded once, sharply. "We've got that route covered. Tell Simmons to set blasters to stun, we might need more than brute force if things get outta hand."

"_Understood. Good luck, rangers."_

Sky glared at him as his snapped the morpher shut. "Since when was opening fire on fellow squad members considered standard procedure?"

"Since he knocked out a security guard. With a fire extinguisher, I might add."

"He was _confused_!"

"Exactly." Jack's voice was firm and unrelenting, but the grip on Sky's shoulder was gentle. "Confused means dangerous, Sky. We can't risk him getting out and hurting anyone else."

The older cadet frowned, shrugging off his teammate's comforting hand. "Still doesn't mean we have to shoot him."

"Only as a last resort, man. Simmons won't give the order unless things look grim."

Sky nodded grudgingly, his posture tensing as the elevator slowed to a halt and the doors slid open with a cheerful '_ding_' that seemed to serve no other purpose than to grate on his nerves. Together, they took off down the corridor, casting grey shadows against the walls in the dull lighting. Anthony Simmons and his security team were there to meet them as they rounded the corner; standing in formation just beyond the closed rec. room door, two men positioned on both sides of the corridor with their backs pressed against the walls and the captain himself in the centre, filling the passage with his muscular form. The B-Squad rangers acknowledged him with curt nods, moving to stand either side of the door.

"Whoever else is in there with him could be hurt," Jack whispered. "If needs be, I can keep Bridge distracted while you get them out. But let's try not to escalate the situation. Keep it cool. Only ranger up if he becomes a real threat."

"Got it." Sky took a deep, steadying breath and glanced towards his teammate. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Nice PJ's, by the way."

"Shut up. Are you ready or not?"

Sky nodded. "Let's do this."

They entered the recreation lounge. And froze.

Bridge was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a plate of toast balanced on his knee as he gulped milk from a tall glass. He was still dressed in the green S.P.D t-shirt and dark sweatpants that they had managed to wrestle him into a few hours earlier, hair sticking up at odd angles from his brief tussle with Sky in the infirmary. He looked pale in the semi-gloom of the partially lit lounge, the dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes belying his apparent energy and enthusiasm as he gestured emphatically towards his companion. Jake Simmons, who seemed completely unfazed by the green ranger's unusual attire, sat perched on the edge of the small, rectangular coffee table in front of the couch, his knees almost touching Bridge's, eyes wide and eager as he listened to the near-unintelligible ramblings.

"But what happens when a zord gets hit? Don't you guys feel it?"

Bridge grinned and shook his head, reaching for another slice of toast. "It relies on our ranger energy, but we're not connected to it in that sense. I mean, we _do_ get bashed around a fair bit, but that's kinda an occupational hazard, you know?"

The sandy-haired teenager nodded enthusiastically. Movement from the doorway caught his attention and he smiled, turning to face the two newcomers. "Oh. Hey."

Jack stepped forward and slowly, cautiously, held out a hand. "Jake, come towards me."

As though a switch had been flicked, the atmosphere of the room changed and the boy's smile faltered. He glanced back and forth between Bridge and the two senior cadets, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. "Sir? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, bud," Jack said reassuringly, pulse quickening as he saw Bridge tense up on the couch. "But I need you to come over here for sec."

Jake glanced at Bridge, looking unsure. "I...I was just talking to-"

"Simmons," Sky growled, in a tone he usually reserved for the criminals they apprehended. "Here. Now."

The boy was on his feet in half a second. Nervously making his way across the room, he came to stand in front of the gruff blue ranger. Jack caught hold of him as soon as he neared them, wrapping an arm about his shoulders and drawing him in closer.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, 'course." Jake was eyeing him warily, shoulders tense in Jack's hold. "Um, sir...what's going on?"

"We'll explain later," Sky replied, reaching over to squeeze a bony shoulder. His expression had softened significantly. "Your dad's waiting at the end of the corridor. Go find him."

Jake still looked unsure, but obeyed without complaint, shooting one last glance at Bridge as he stepped out of the lounge. The remaining occupants could hear the security captain's sharp intake of breath and soft, startled _"Jake?"_ before the door slid closed behind him. Silence reigned for several minutes as Bridge continued to stare blankly at the opposite wall, his face lax and pale as the worried teammates exchanged significant glances.

Sky moved forward so that he was standing on the opposite side of the coffee table, regarding his roommate warily. The younger ranger's eyes were half-lidded and distant, lacking their usual youthful spark. He looked drained; empty. It was a worrying sight.

Sky inched a little closer. "Bridge?"

The slighter man jumped, startled. He glanced up at Sky and smiled, as though seeing him for the first time. "Hey. Having trouble sleeping? Me too. Thought I'd sit in here for a bit. Wanna slice of toast? It's buttery. " He held up the laden plate and wiggled the gloved fingers of his other hand. Then his eyes narrowed and the smile faded. "What happened to your face?"

Sky winced as he carefully wiped away the fresh blood. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Bridge?" Jack edged around the side of the couch, every move measured and non-threatening, and gently pulled the plate of toast out of the younger man's grasp, setting it down quietly on the coffee table. "How do you feel?"

"Huh?" The empath blinked, surprised. "Oh. I'm...I feel..." He trailed off, what little colour he had retained slowly draining from his face as he curled a hand tightly around the cushion in his lap. He shuddered, hugging it to his chest as he swallowed reflexively. "Actually, I don't feel so great."

A trashcan was suddenly thrust in front of the green ranger, narrowly avoiding a collision with Jack's head. But the intrusion was easily forgiven when, mere seconds later, Bridge lost the contents of his stomach. Jack shot a grateful look towards his teammate, but Sky was too focused on Bridge to notice. He sat squished between Bridge and the armrest, one hand gripping the trashcan while the other rubbed the younger man's back in slow, firm circles. Jack stared open-mouthed, unable to help himself. This was a side to Sky Tate that he rarely saw; hidden too often beneath layers of pride and self-assurance.

"Pass me a couple of napkins, would you?"

Jack stared at him blankly. "Huh?"

"Napkins," Sky repeated, his gaze never leaving Bridge's shivering form, his hand still trailing a soothing pattern over the heaving back. "They're over by the coffee machine."

Jack retrieved them wordlessly and tried not to make a face as the smell of bile hit him. Handing them over, he gingerly took the proffered trashcan and deposited it on the other side of the room. _Out of sight, out of mind. Pity the same doesn't apply for the smell._ But it was the best they could do for now. He would call for a domestibot once Bridge was safely tucked up in the infirmary.

He returned to his teammates and dropped into a crouch, reaching out to place a warm hand on Bridge's knee. "Feel any better?"

The teenager nodded, tossing the scrunched-up napkins onto the plate of toast. He glanced towards Sky and sucked in a sharp breath, raising a shaking hand to touch the side of the older man's face. Sky held perfectly still, his expression neutral as Bridge traced the darkening bruise and split lip with gloved fingers. His eyes were wide, fearful, making him look all of six years old. His Adam's apple bobbed visibly as he swallowed.

"Was...was that me?"

Sky caught his hand and slowly, gently, lowered it back to the cushion in his lap. "It was my fault. I moved too fast, it startled you."

Bridge shook his head, eyes brimming. "God, I am _so_ sorry."

"Hey." Sky looped an arm across the quivering shoulders and pulled him into an easy half-hug. "You've got nothing to be sorry about. You couldn't help it."

"I was dreaming," the green ranger murmured, exhaustion and grief thickening the words. "I was in this prison – well, _Brox_ was, but it felt like me. All the guards were Vissonian, so I must've been back on my – _his_ – home planet. They were gonna lock me away for life and I...I got angry. Furious, even. I wanted to hurt them all. So I did." His voice dropped to a whisper. "All of them."

Sky shook his head, squeezing the shoulders a little more firmly. "It wasn't you, Bridge. It was a bad dream, that's all."

Bridge bit his lip, eyes welling up again. "But I hit you."

"Hey, we've already discussed that," Sky argued, gently but firmly. "Don't go beating yourself up about it. Nobody's blaming you."

The teenager didn't reply, but pressed further against Sky's side, seeking contact. Sky could feel the tremors running through the slight frame and he frowned, pressing the back of his hand against Bridge's forehead. The younger man winced at the skin-on-skin contact but didn't move away.

"You feel clammy."

"S'cold down here," Bridge mumbled, hugging the cushioned tightly and renewing his attempt to steal Sky's body heat.

"We need to get you back into bed, kid," came Jack's deeper voice from somewhere to the right; somewhere Sky couldn't quite see over Bridge's head. "Think you can make it as far as the infirmary on your own steam?"

Bridge shook his head miserably.

"Hey, don't worry about it," the red ranger soothed. "I'll get the backup security squad to bring us a stretcher. You take it easy for a few minutes."

As Jack stepped out into the corridor to make the call – and to tell Simmons that the situation was in hand – Sky shifted his position so that Bridge's head could rest against his shoulder. He frowned worriedly at the fresh tear tracks on the younger man's face.

"Hey, what is it?"

Bridge took a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he buried his face in Sky's uniform. "Nothin'. S'just...I hate this."

Sky swallowed to ease the lump in his throat as he rested a cheek against the unkempt brown hair. "So do we, bud," he sighed. "So do we."

o~O~o

He awoke to screaming.

His body moving of its own accord, he threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His foot connected with something solid and he grunted in pain and surprise, simultaneously registering his surroundings. _Infirmary. Right._ His brain caught up and his gaze shifted towards the bed nearest his own. Bridge was sitting bolt-upright, eyes wide and panic-filled, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Sky was out of bed and at his roommate's side in an instant, hands held in a semi-defensive position as he looked for any signs of recognition in the younger man's face.

"Bridge?"

Softly, tremblingly, "Sky?"

Releasing the breath he had been holding, Sky lowered his arms and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Slowly, carefully, watching all the while for that glint of uncharacteristic fury he had seen in the teenager's eyes earlier that morning, he placed a hand on Bridge's shoulder.

"Yeah, it's me. Are you alright?"

The green ranger shook his head, lower lip trembling. "He...he killed them, Sky. They were so little. They were scared and hurt and crying and he didn't even care. H-he..." the teenager's voice broke as a tear left a shiny streak down his face, "he _enjoyed_ it."

Sky's face was pained. He moved further up the mattress and pulled the younger man against him in a firm embrace. "We got him, Bridge. He can't hurt anyone else."

"They begged me to stop," Bridge continued as though he hadn't heard him, his voice thick with tears and muffled in Sky's chest. "Why didn't I stop?"

"It wasn't you, Bridge," the older man said firmly, resting his chin against the teenager's head. "None of it was you."

"Well it _felt_ like me. It _still_ feels like me."

Sky shot Jack a dark look over the top of the kid's head. The red ranger was hovering at the foot his own infirmary bed, face drawn and fatigued but brown eyes alert and full of concern as he met Sky's gaze. They were both aware of Brox's lengthy criminal record – the detainment facility on Vissonia Prime had sent a copy of his file to S.P.D soon after the incident. Even the scarce details that Cruger had revealed to them in their sombre debriefing had given them a clear enough picture to establish the kind of monster they had been fighting. Sometimes detainment seemed too lenient a punishment for scum like Brox.

And now that bastard's most vivid memories had been thrust upon Bridge. The thought made Sky's blood run cold. His roommate was so young, so _naive_. It just wasn't fair.

The memories would fade. They always did. But in the days it took for the images to pass, Bridge wouldn't be _Bridge_ anymore. Plagued by nightmares and haunted by images of a life he had never lived, of crimes he had never committed, he would exist as a shadow of his old self, frightened and fragile; broken, even. Sky could do nothing to prevent it. And it killed him inside.

"I think he's asleep."

Sky started a little, opening his eyes and glancing down at the warm weight that had settled against his side. He wondered how long he'd been sitting there, lost in his own thoughts. It appeared he had moved position at some point, because now he sat slouched against the headboard in a semi-reclining position with his legs up on the mattress. Bridge had indeed fallen back asleep, but curled up against Sky's side with his head pillowed on the older ranger's chest and his hands fisted in the blue S.P.D t-shirt that Jack had forced him into after Kat had finished patching up his split lip.

His mouth curled up in a half-amused smile at the sight. The kid was adorable, no doubts there. But his clingy nature did have one significant drawback. Sky was, quite irrefutably, stuck.

He sighed, glancing up at his teammate. "Looks like I'd best get comfortable."

Jack grinned, eyeing their snoozing squad member with a fond expression. "What I'd give for a camera right now."

"Don't. You. _Dare._"

"Mm, I'll think about it."

"Jack..."

The red ranger winked, throwing himself onto the nearest bed and tugging the blanket up around his shoulders. "I'll see how I feel in the morning."

"It's zero-four-thirty, Jack. It _is_ the morning."

"Smartass. Go to sleep."

And few minutes later, that was precisely what he did, the shadow of a triumphant smile still lingering about his lips.

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><p><em><strong>*blushes*<strong>_

_**Yes, shameless fluff. I did warn you. I apologise if I'm responsible for giving you a cavity or two. But I was craving some Sky/Bridge fluff, and this is what the plot bunnies demanded. Let me know what you thought!**_

_**Next chapter should be out in just over a week.**_

_**xxx**_


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